Dark Night
by Martienne
Summary: It is said that we are not human beings but human becomings. Leonard Church was no exception. Part two of Origins Trilogy. [Rated T for language and mild sexual content.]
1. Vigilance

It was another nightmare.

In the darkness Caitlin woke as Leonard began to thrash and whimper. Once again the sounds he uttered would grow in intensity until the nightmare ended; once again she would reach out to comfort him as he wept.

She had learned long ago not to wake him in the middle of a nightmare. The dreams would continue as soon as he drifted off to sleep if she did that. No, Caitlin was resigned to wait so that another night or two would pass without the specters that came and haunted his mind.

Caitlin Suh had met Leonard Church when they both applied to enter the prestigious AI Engineering program at MIT. They were competing for one of the few slots in the master's degree program, which was world-famous. Since entering college Caitlin had been ambitious and career-driven; she had never met a man that could turn her head until she encountered him. She only met him in passing outside the professor's office, but there was a look in his blue eyes that haunted her for days afterward.

They were both accepted, of course. Both of them had been valedictorians, he at Austin, she at USC. They were exactly the sort of students MIT wanted to train, completely dedicated to the field—the kind of top-level research that the graduate students did there required a single-minded commitment. For Caitlin it was just one stepping stone on the career path she had set out for herself years before. She had no intention of letting anything stand in the way of her goals.

By the time the accepted students returned for the orientation session, Caitlin had forgotten about him. But when she caught sight of him again, she felt her heart race. He was tall and lanky, with black hair, and had a brooding look, a seriousness in his gaze that made him seem older than his years.

Until then, Caitlin had seen most men her age as immature. None of those she had known as an undergraduate had been interested in their studies—not really, not in the way Caitlin was. She wanted to become a standout in the field, and she didn't care who knew it. Leonard made it clear that his goals were much the same. He spoke of his future achievements as though they were written in stone. He knew to what objectives he intended to attain and he was not going to be deterred by anything—or anyone.

As their first year of research drew on, it became clear that she and Leonard were still the most driven, the most dedicated among their peers. No one else pulled the all-nighters they did. If Caitlin was honest with herself, she spent a lot more late nights at the lab than she might have otherwise…because he was there with her. She told herself it was because of the good-natured rivalry that had arisen between them—she just couldn't let him get a leg up on her if she was going to best him—but she knew that wasn't the only reason. She did it because she wanted to be near him, and she hoped he felt the same way.

The night when he had finally kissed her was etched indelibly in her mind. She had wished for it, hoped for it, but hadn't dreamed of making any advances of her own. She had no time for silly crushes, for flirting glances. At least that was what she had told herself over and over, even though she couldn't deny her attraction to him. It was such a cliché, for her to fall for someone because he was the strong, silent type. But fall for him she had.

The kiss was sudden, an impetuous action, and for a while both of them had tried to pretend it hadn't happened. But the chemistry between them had changed. A simple touch meant so much more, little glances that made her hands tremble. He had unwittingly won her heart with his intensity and diligence. And soon she learned that he had come to love her as well, for her serenity and controlled, thoughtful demeanor. She was a good balance for him.

But so far as his being the strong, silent type—as their relationship blossomed, she learned that he wasn't so strong as she had first supposed. He had warned her about his nightmares. But the terror in his voice when he cried out in the darkness, the panic in which he awakened, was distressing to her beyond what she had been able to imagine. And the silence? It was only because of the memories that haunted him so doggedly.

She wondered now if that was why she had been drawn to him in the first place. They were both victims of tragedy. In her case, she had lost her father when the Covenant attacked Chi Ceti IV. Officially her father was not listed as a casualty of the battle, but he had suffered a heart attack after he was evacuated from the UNSC facility there. Something about that sorrowful look in Leonard's eyes had called out to her. That maturity that she had seen in him, that look in his eyes that had drawn her in so completely, was matched in herself as the knowledge of what it was to lose someone so deeply.

Leonard had never told her much about his dreams. She knew that Allison had been his bride, the girl next door whom he had wed in the flower of their youth. She also knew Allison had been deployed near the beginning of the Covenant war, and Caitlin could only suppose that the nightmares were about her death. It seemed far too painful for him to describe them; he never had, and Caitlin wasn't one to pry. She knew how much it hurt, even if she didn't know what sort of visions he endured. What she did know was that Leonard needed her when he awoke; he relied on her for comfort when the dreams came. And that was enough for her.

He had begun to moan. It was almost over now. She waited, eyes open, waited for the scream that soon would tear itself from his throat. She gripped the edge of the mattress in anticipation.

"_Allison_!" Leonard shot upright as his desperate cry burst forth.

Caitlin sat up next to him and slipped her arms around his shoulders from behind. "It's all right, sweetie, it's over now." She rested her temple on his hair. He was shuddering with his barely controlled, muted weeping. She clung to him, trying to somehow absorb all of his pain, to take it upon herself, through their contacted skin.

"I'm here, Len," she whispered, leaning to deliver the words in his ear. "I'm always here for you."

* * *

After a time, Leonard's tears eased and he leaned back into her embrace. "Thank you, Cate," he murmured.

She tugged him gently back and they both lay down again. She stroked his hairline with her fingertips, leaning in to snuggle against his shoulder and administer gentle kisses to his collarbone. He closed his eyes, grateful for her touch.

"Feel better now?" she breathed.

"I'm fine," he murmured. "Thanks." He meant it, but he hoped that would be the only inquiry she would make. She had started trying to coax him to open up to her about the dreams. She didn't question him openly about them, but he was getting tired of this dance.

After a few moments of silence, Caitlin hummed out a little sigh. "Len..."

"Shh." He put a finger momentarily on her lips, tightening the arm that was encircling her shoulder to pull her closer.

She audibly hesitated as she allowed herself to be drawn closer. "Ar—are you all right now?"

"Mm-hmm." He nestled his chin on the top of her head.

She stroked once down his arm with the backs of her fingers. "Are you going to go back to sleep?"

He didn't know why she ever bothered asking. He always told her he would, even when they both knew he wouldn't. "Yeah." He could tell from the way her fingers fluttered against his chest that she still wanted to talk. He kept his eyes closed, slowing his breathing as though he were falling asleep.

Suddenly she lifted her head from his shoulder. "You know, this has been happening more often—"

"Stop, Cate." A pang of regret made him cringe. He knew if she persisted he would spill the whole story, tell her why the nightmares had returned, and that was something he just couldn't allow. "Please."

There was another moment's pause. "It didn't used to be this bad…" Her disappointment was audible in her voice. She cared so much.

"You know, to tell you the truth… I don't want them to stop." He sighed, sensing her shock from the way her body twitched against him.

He also knew the incredulous look she must have on her face, judging from her tone. "Why?"

He lay flat on his back again, turning his face to stare out into the darkness of the room. "I don't know, it's just… If I forget, maybe…maybe I won't be the same person anymore." The words were a realization to him even as they escaped his mouth and he blinked back the prickling feeling behind his eyelids.

"You'll never forget her, Len." She drew her face closer to his neck to nuzzle him. "I think you should consider what I've said about grief counseling."

He had to swallow back the sudden rise in his temper to keep from snapping at her. He tried to keep his tone even, but his exasperation showed. "Cate, we've been over this! I'm not going!"

Caitlin nodded, and he felt the skin of her cheek softly brushing against his shoulder. He also felt moisture. He experienced a wave of guilt as he heard her breathing more deeply—she was crying. But neither of them spoke again and after a bit she had fallen asleep.

It was so easy for her to drift off, but it had been weeks since Leonard had fallen asleep except when utterly exhausted. If it wasn't one of those damned nightmares, it was a dream of Allison accusing him of not doing enough, not caring enough, not trying hard enough. The blissful memories came in those dreams, times where they had walked in the rain, or hiked in the woods, or the night she had cooked him a celebration dinner, or their escapade in the detention hall at school. But in them, she was always asking about his research, demanding to know why he had not made the breakthrough and why he didn't care that she had been unable to return to him, and so sleep had become an enemy to him.

It hadn't always been this way. It had been nearly a decade, after all. He had experienced nightmares this intense after Allison's death, but until recently the memories had faded, burnished with the softening hand of time. Life had marched on, and despite his reasons for going into this field, he had begun to build a life with another woman.

He hadn't really meant to get involved with Caitlin. At first when he had felt the attraction between them growing, he had compared Caitlin to Allison in everything she did. The physical disparities were the first and most apparent. Allison had been nearly his height, muscular (especially after boot camp), with a long graceful neck, green eyes and red hair. Caitlin was slight—nearly a foot shorter than he—with a soft, shapely body. She had a round face, almond-shaped dark eyes, and chestnut hair.

Their personality differences were fairly obvious, as well. Allison had been impulsive, reckless, self-destructive. Caitlin seemed to think something through to the point of exhaustion before she made a decision. At first this had irritated him, but the fact that she never changed her mind after her deliberate decision had been made was a refreshing change. She was more soft-spoken than Allison, as well, but still knew how to keep up with his banter and teasing. It was hard to get one over on her.

He had found it difficult to give himself permission to fall in love again. But if it was going to happen, it seemed like this was the woman that it should happen with. She was a good anchor for him. She knew just how to calm him down when he was raging, knew how to comfort him when he was grieving; best of all, she had never pried into the darker parts of his mind.

After he fell in love with Caitlin the time he spent working on his plan to obtain Allison's brain scan became less and less. He had even idly contemplated dropping the whole venture altogether. But when he truly contemplated that, it struck dread into his heart. He loved Caitlin, of course he did, but he couldn't just let Allison go. It was his fault. And the pain of that was still so raw, even if he had begun to heal from the loss. He had promised to forgive her when she made mistakes, yet he had held out so stubbornly when it came time to make good on that promise. All he had needed to do was apologize to her for lying, such a simple thing to do. He should not have waited on her to make the first move. His offense had been first, even if hers had been the greater. And he knew that if he had not been so stubborn she would never have gone and enlisted. She would still be here for him to cherish and protect. It had been his failure to treat her right that led to her death.

Now, in the darkness, he remembered how he felt that morning, when he arose early to the alarm and went to gaze intensely at his reflection in the mirror. He had had a mission to accomplish that day that was seven years in the making. He remembered how he had felt his heart in his throat while his loyalty to Allison struggled against his devotion to Caitlin. She was just on the other side of the apartment, lying in his bed. And as he had continued to prepare to leave the apartment, brushing his hair and his teeth, the thought kept returning: He still had the chance to turn back. He could slip back into bed with Caitlin, and she would roll over and caress him, and he would kiss her and tell her he would never leave. He could completely give himself over to this new life with her.

But in the end he had felt compelled to go through with it. He had waited so long, manipulated so many details, so many long years of steering everything toward this one goal. How could he give it up now? Besides, he simply could not stand the idea of the contents of her mind sitting in an archive room on a disc, untouched and unutilized for years on end. If anything, she was his property; certainly she did not belong to the government, the faceless entity that had sent her off to her death.

So he did it. He took it—he took _her_, he took that disc that was truly his in a way no one else could possibly appreciate.

The execution of his plan had brought a catharsis of the pain he had held onto for those ten years. But what he hadn't counted on was the way the nightmares had returned in the three weeks since he had finally completed his mission. Instead of bringing him joy the way he had expected, it brought more darkness into his heart than ever. Because what good was it to possess that archive if he couldn't figure out what to do with it? No one had yet made the discovery of how to turn a holo-scanned brain into an AI. There was no doubt in his mind that it was somehow possible, despite the assertions of some that it was a lost cause. He had not allowed those naysayers to diminish his belief that the holo scan paradox was nothing more than a Gordian knot—once a sharp enough sword had been located, the solution would fall into place.

And when the paradox had been solved, when the knot had been cleaved in two, he would have Allison—well, an AI created from Allison's mind. He knew better than to think that if he activated it that it would resurrect her. The AI would be a computer program, a mind of its own that happened to store Allison's memories inside it, and nothing more.

Now the memories of her had begun to assault him again in the night watches. Strangely, he felt grateful that they had—they were a part of his identity somehow, and he had been loath to let them go. But the images were overwhelming him as they had not done since Allison's death. The remembrance of the fistfight at her mother's house, the arguments triggered in her last few days at home because of the tension and uncertainty, and then the dread and despair he felt after receiving that final letter.

The worst memory of all was the remembrance of the two somber men who came to tell him that she had died. He thought that the worst day of his life had already passed by the time the Marine Corps officers had showed up at his door; he knew what they were there to tell him. As the men began to speak, he determined that he would accept the news stoically. But nothing he had endured before that moment matched the outpouring of grief that overwhelmed him after they had left. The sounds he made then had seemed almost un-human and he remembered that as he had wailed he felt both immersed in the pain of it and yet strangely detached, as though he were a bystander watching his figure weeping from somewhere far away.

His nightmares had always been based on his memories of her, especially of those final months. But since he had done this thing, since he had made good on his long-deferred plot, he had been experiencing a new nightmare.

He was on a warship, steel gray and huge, but he was sitting at one of the computer terminals from the AI lab. And she was there. She was talking about his research as she stood there in her uniform—as she always did, asking why he hadn't made a breakthrough, and if he didn't see how important it was for them that he find the solution—but he was trying desperately to find the solution as she spoke, calculations and algorithms scrolling by on the screen, somehow knowing that if he did not find the answer right now she would be killed before his very eyes; then came a terrible sound, the rumbling of cannons and mortars, and now he was frantically modeling, rendering the 3-D map of his latest calculations, but the model was building slowly, much too slowly; and then the ship was burning, and he saw that she was slipping away, and as he grasped for her hand the model on the screen was almost finished, but now she lay dead, she lay dead far across the yawning cavern of the ship—oh, not again, why was he forced to see that image over and over—and he screamed her name.

Whatever had happened, the nightmare always ended when he screamed her name, but the worst part was the nightmare never ended because she was gone. She had really died in that battle, and on that night…

…on that night, his waking nightmare had only begun.


	2. The Souvenir of Pain

When Caitlin woke up again, the sun was starting to peek up over the horizon and tinge the windows with a diffuse glow. Leonard was already gone, and she arose, pulling on her robe and combing her fingers leisurely through her hair.

The following day, they were going to be presenting their joint research project at an important academic conference. The conference was sponsored every year by the Office of Naval Intelligence. It was fairly well-known that ONI scouted for the best and brightest of up-and-coming scientists during the annual event. Putting on a good presentation at the conference often meant being granted a job interview with ONI soon after.

It was the chance of a lifetime. They had been so good for each other's careers, spurring each other to a level of excellence she had been unable to fathom before she had met him. She knew that the fact she was even contemplating obtaining work at the prestigious government agency was due more to Leonard's influence than any other. Certainly the death of her father while doing his duty as a UNSC intelligence expert had never caused her to covet such a position.

She wandered out into the kitchen, idly hoping to find him there, but of course he wasn't. She lifted the coffee carafe and peeked into the filter basket, noting that he had already drunk 4 or 5 cups of the stuff. He must be in their home office, polishing up his part of their presentation. Since his nightmares had returned he had been waiting after she fell asleep afterward to get up and do research. He must have done it again, despite telling her that he was going to go back to sleep.

She glanced at the office door. Leonard had a tendency to get completely absorbed in a project, eschewing all other obligations until his work was done, even meals. But surely, she thought, she would be able to convince him to take the time this morning to sit down to breakfast with her. He needed to get out of his head for a while and relax, or at least _she_ needed him to.

She walked over to the office door and pushed it open. "Len?"

Leonard jumped up, his desk chair spiraling backward into the room. He reached down and tapped on the keyboard, closing out his work. Then he spun around to face her, though the slight limp that was always present in his left leg made the move awkward. "What the hell are you doing, sneaking up on me?"

She frowned. "No! I wasn't trying to sneak up on you." Normally she would have rapped on the door before entering, but that was no reason for him to react this way. She glanced at the screen, despite the fact that it was now blank. "Are you working on the presentation?"

He scoffed a little and ran a hand through his hair. "I have more than one project going on right now, Cate."

Caitlin let her confusion and annoyance show on her face. "I know you do. I just expected you to be concentrating on getting ready for the presentation tomorrow."

"I'll spend some time on that this afternoon. I just needed to take care of some…writing." He shrugged, his eyes cast to the floor.

Caitlin stepped forward, laying a hand apologetically on his arm. She knew what he meant when he said he was writing. Journaling was his own form of therapy. And of course, she sympathized about the date conflict with the conference. She had known when the schedule was sent to them that October 20th was Allison's birthday, but he had insisted that he would have no trouble dealing with it. Obviously, he had been wrong. Maybe this would be a good time to try to talk to him about getting counseling again. It had helped her immensely in the aftermath of her father's passing. "I'm sorry, Len. I guess this is going to be harder than you expected—"

"I told you I'll be fine," he snapped. "I'm trying to work through it today, that's all."

Caitlin stepped closer to embrace him. "I'm sorry."

His arms wrapped around her shoulders and she nuzzled into his chest, inhaling his scent. She loved the way she was so much shorter than him. He could just enfold her in his arms and she felt so warm and safe there. But he held her for just a moment before releasing her and trying to step back.

She reluctantly pulled away and looked up into his face. "Are you going in to work today?"

"No; you know, I thought about it, but I really feel like being alone today."

She stepped back. She could take a hint. "Fine, then. But if you want to talk about it, I can call in, too."

He shook his head, looking away to avoid her gaze. "That's not necessary." He turned his back on her to walk back to the desk.

She gazed at him wistfully. "Of course it's not," she replied. Then she paused before deciding to give it one more try. "I just want to make sure you'll be okay."

He stopped, standing still with his back to her, his palms flat on the surface of the desk. "I'll be okay if you'll just…leave me the hell alone!"

She shook her head and slipped out the door. He would have to deal with the pain in his own way since he refused to let her help him. But the rejections hurt more than he knew. She had let him into her own grieving process, and she had always been there for him in the past—why didn't he trust her to be there for him now? Every time he had pushed her away in the last few weeks she felt acutely the presence of a stone wall that he just wouldn't let her in beyond.

She was starting to despise his past, quite honestly. She knew better than most that there was a difference between mourning and refusing to let go. He behaved as though resolving his grief over Allison's death meant Allison had never existed at all. Maybe it would be better if she hadn't. Caitlin sometimes wanted to find that journal file of his on the computer and just delete it, or get that wooden box full of Allison's trinkets and letters and burn it. Not that doing so would help him to heal. It would only help to indulge her own spite.

Probably the girl he grieved for would never have been so vindictive. Given the way he held on so fiercely to her memory, she must have been really special. _Whoever you were, Allison, _she mused listlessly, _I suppose you were a better person than I._

* * *

Caitlin worked late that day. She had no desire to come home and be ignored by Leonard while he moped around the apartment.

Until recently it had seemed like he was finally letting go and starting to heal. During the first year of their relationship, he had gone off to be alone when there was a significant anniversary to observe. But this year, on Allison's death date in March, he had invited Caitlin to sit with him. He didn't talk much. He had quietly shared a few memories before he broke down, and then he turned to her and caressed her and wept into her shoulder. On the wedding anniversary in August he had even let Caitlin look at a photograph of Allison—the first time Caitlin had glimpsed anything tangible that pertained to her. It was as though the more he let Caitlin into those memories, the more he was accepting the fact that they were over.

But this time around, there was something different. She just couldn't put her finger on it, but she knew he had plunged completely back into those old feelings of desolation. After the way he had spoken to her that morning, she knew he was not going to let her comfort him this time. She didn't want to deal with the resentment she would feel when he blocked her out, so she stayed away.

When she finally returned, the apartment was silent and still. Many of the lights were still burning and a bourbon whiskey bottle was lying empty on its side on the table. She approached the bedroom door. She could see him in there; he was sitting on the floor next to the bed, his head lolling back against the mattress. He had another half-empty bottle clutched in his hand. As she entered the room she gazed at him with pity. He had been trying so hard to handle his grief on his own. Obviously he had not succeeded. Was Allison's birthday that much different from the other anniversaries? She felt more strongly than ever that he needed to get some help to work through things. She needed to find some new approach to convince him, some way to make him understand.

In any case, she had to concern herself with getting them both to bed now. There was still a conference the next day, even if Leonard had been rash enough to get drunk tonight. She went around the apartment and turned off the lights.

She returned to the bedroom, crouching next to him. He was muttering to himself, insensible, and his eyes barely focused on her when she said his name. "Come on," she said, with just a touch of irritation, giving a tug on his arm to try to get him to support his weight against her. "You need to get undressed."

His head slowly turned in her direction, his heavy-lidded eyes rimmed with red. "Never see her again," he slurred.

She sighed and let go of his arm. There wasn't really any question of who he was talking about. "No, you won't. She's gone, Len."

"I told her I'm trying." His speech was still low and slightly garbled, so Caitlin had to strain to understand him. "You know I'm still trying."

She shook her head and took his hand to stroke it with her thumb. The stress of preparing for the presentation must have added a lot more pressure than he had expected. "No, we've got it all wrapped up," she assured him. "We'll be fine."

Leonard grunted and his head drooped to the side. "I try so hard. But she's always asking me."

She gave his hand a little squeeze. She felt so bad for letting him overtax himself. His mind was scrambling everything all together. She should have come home early. A moment passed as she mused, sitting down beside him and taking in the sight of his haggard face. She loved him so much. It pained her to see him self-destructing over his past.

His next sentence sounded even more morose. "I can't do it. I keep failing."

She blinked in confusion. "Failing?" He couldn't be talking about his career. He'd been successful in everything he had done in their field.

"Only artificial," he slurred.

"What is?" She frowned. "I don't understand."

"The intelligence. Only artificial." He groaned longingly. "Miss her too much, miss her too damn much…"

Caitlin's heart flipped over. The words were innocuous enough, but something about the sentiment… Was he contemplating suicide? "No, Len," she said in an insistent tone, leaning forward to try to break through his drunken haze. "You have to stay with me. You can't go to her yet."

He replied with a low moan. "Got drunk so she would leave me be," he grumbled. "She always asks me. She'll never stop."

She felt her heart beating erratically. She had never heard him talk like this. Impassioned, she gripped his arm, caressing his face with her other hand. "Say no, Len. Tell her no."

His mouth bent into a crooked line, a wry half-smile, or was it a grimace? "It's not that simple."

She shook her head, a weepy feeling rising in her throat. The guilt of knowing that she had never pressed him to tell her about his nightmares rose up and choked her. How long had Allison been visiting him in his dreams, asking him to join her in death? She swallowed and found her voice again. "You tell her that you're not done here," she exhorted him. "You have to live your life with me before you can go to her."

For the first time he tried to raise his head from the bed and sit more upright, grunting slightly with the exertion. "Caitlin?"

"Yes, it's me, Leonard." She moved back to a crouching position and pulled his arm over her shoulders. She was still sniffling, but she had to take care of business here."Come on, we have to get some sleep."

This time he allowed himself to be dragged to a half-standing position. He was larger than her and heavier than what she could handle, so she let him fall against the bed and she had to half-roll, half-push him onto the mattress. He lay there still in full attire. She shook her head. Then, like a coddling mother with an overgrown boy, she pulled off Leonard's shoes and socks. He groaned a little, stirring as she proceeded to pull off his outer garments, cooperating as well as he could as she rolled him back and forth to get at each pant leg and sleeve.

Finally, she left him alone to change for bed. He fell asleep swiftly, his chest rising and falling with his ragged breathing. She turned the light out, slipping under the covers to press her body against his.

She could feel that the anxious tremor in her stomach caused her whole body to quake, and she ran her hand up and down his chest to soothe herself. He was still alive. It wasn't too late to help him heal. Somehow, she would help him through this. But she also couldn't help worrying about the presentation the next day. Of all the days for him to have a hangover, that was the very worst occasion he could have chosen. And of all the nights she needed sleep, she found it didn't come so easily.

* * *

She awoke to the alarm. She turned to nudge Leonard, but he was already out of bed.

She went into the kitchen and saw him sitting at the table, hunched in front of a cup of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs. He had left the egg pan over the heat and the oil in the pan was scorching. She walked over to the stove and turned it off before sitting in the chair around the corner of the table from him.

She lowered her head down, trying to get him to look at her. "Are you going to be able to do this today?"

He didn't look up from the mass of congealed eggs on his plate. He had taken a few bites, but the eggs were cold now. "I told you I'll be fine," he mumbled.

"Fine? That's not what you said last night," Caitlin replied. She was trying to remain calm, but the memory of how upset she had been the previous night made her more outspoken than usual. "As a matter of fact, I don't think you have been 'fine' for a while now!"

He winced with the elevation in her tone. "What the hell are you talking about?"

She calmed herself before she spoke again. She would not let him see how frightened she had been, not yet, anyway. She needed him to see reason, not discount her arguments because she was upset. "You were muttering things when you were drunk last night. I know what's been going on with you."

His eyes darted to meet hers. "You know _what_?" he asked sharply.

Caitlin sat back in her chair, satisfied by his reaction that she was on the right track. "You said you've been trying to see her again, but you failed."

Leonard scoffed, scowling. "Don't tell me you bought into anything I was saying."

She knew she'd touched a nerve, even as he protested. "Oh, I know you were telling the truth." She put her hand on his. "I know you haven't wanted to go for grief counseling, Len, but if it's gotten to the point where you're thinking of suicide…"

Leonard let out a guffaw, pulling his hand back, swallowing the relieved laughter that followed. "Oh, yeah, the suicidal ideation thing." He looked down at his plate with what Caitlin could only assume was contrition, but a smile was playing around the corners of his mouth. He hardened his mouth into a neutral line, pressing his lips together for an instant. "You don't have to worry about that. It was only because I was drunk last night."

She leaned forward into the table, now allowing her agitation to show. He might think it was funny, but she certainly didn't. "Why did you do that? I've never seen you that drunk before."

He fidgeted with his fork. "If we're lucky, it'll be the last time."

She sighed through her nose, rubbing her forehead restlessly. "I know it's still hard for you, Len. But it's obvious that drinking to numb the pain only accentuated it."

Leonard glanced at her. "Maybe I needed it to."

Caitlin shook her head. "I never want to see you like that again. Do you understand? It scared the hell out of me!"

He stared down at his plate. Despite his attempts to defend his behavior, it seemed he was as disturbed by it as she was. "All right, Cate. It won't happen again."


	3. Space Between

Tonight, Caitlin felt particularly ambitious. Yes, she had made up her mind. She had suspected some good news was coming, but today, it was confirmed. She was both nervous and excited, but given the way Leonard had been acting lately, she couldn't be sure how he'd take it. But she knew what she was going to do—she was going to surprise Leonard with a romantic evening. It was so unlike her to take charge the way she intended to do that night, but she was determined to affect the outcome in her favor. She had arrived home first that afternoon—most of the time to get to or from work she rode on Leonard's motorcycle, clinging to his back, but this was the one day of the week that they had different schedules. Not that working and living in the same places meant they spent a lot of time together. They worked out of different offices at the university; at home, the more she had tried to talk to him about what was bothering him, the more he had become sullen and withdrawn. And he was spending more and more time cloistering himself in their home office when he could be spending time with her.

As his depression had continued to languish, she had become lonely. She missed him. It was so upsetting to miss someone who was there every day, but that was how it stood. She knew one romantic evening wouldn't be enough to snap him out of it if it was truly a clinical depression, but they could at least share a nice evening…just one night when he would be himself again. This was good news, after all; great news! Then why was she so anxious about his reaction? Surely, he'd be happy and they could celebrate together.

By the time Leonard was due to arrive, she had everything prepared. She had gotten take-out—one of his favorite meals, a steak dinner with sautéed onions—and arranged everything attractively on the table. Candles were lit in the living and dining areas, as well as the bedroom, and she had changed into a black dress that Leonard had complimented her on the last time she had worn it. She fidgeted with the hem, trying to look comfortable in it. She wasn't used to wearing slinky clothes, and felt all too aware of the way the fabric clung to her body, but she wanted to entice him. Make him forget about whatever it was that brought that far-off, melancholy gaze into his eyes; make him remember how she loved him. She waited with anticipation just behind the door, standing up straighter when she heard the click of the doorknob.

As he opened the door, Leonard seemed lost in his own world, and he had to stop abruptly to keep from barreling right into her. "Wha—?"

She decided to start out coy. "Hi, Leonard," she said. She gave him her best coquettish eyes, smiling what she hoped was a flirtatious smile. She felt kind of awkward and out of her element doing that. There was a reason she had gone into a scientific field—concrete concepts suited her much better than the uncertainty of romance. Still, there was no denying how pleased she felt to have surprised him so completely. His amazement showed all over his face.

"Uh…hi?" He seemed frozen in place, confused. "Did I forget our anniversary or something?"

"No," she said, still smiling. "I just got some good news today and I wanted to celebrate with you."

"Oh." He put his keys down. He seemed to be pulling his mind from somewhere far away, trying to bring himself into the moment. He stared down at the surface of the side table next to the door before he turned, blinking, and regarded her from head to toe and back again with a smile. "You look good."

So it was working, she noted with satisfaction. Time to reel him in. "'Good'?" she teased with a touch of mock offense.

"What do you want, a soliloquy? 'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?' You look hot." He took her hand, kissing it as she laughed. "Is that good enough?"

She smiled. "Yeah, that'll do." He was acting much more like himself already. But with the increase in his attention she felt suddenly too shy to do what she had planned, which was to put her arms around him and demand a kiss. She felt herself blush and despite herself, she drew back a bit.

He seemed to notice her nervousness. "What kind of 'news' is this, anyway?" He pulled her up close to him. His tone was both excited and anxious. "This isn't like…medical news, is it?"

Caitlin laughed, realizing what impression he was getting. "No, no, of course not. I just wanted a romantic night with you. It seemed like a good excuse."

He nodded, relieved. "What do you have planned?"

With him looking down into her eyes, she felt emboldened, and she responded by standing on her toes and touching her lips to his. To her delight, his grip around her shoulders tightened as he drew her closer. It had been weeks since he had responded to her subtle advances, certainly even longer since he had initiated anything. But now her efforts to change the atmosphere seemed to be enough for him to allow the melancholy he had been cloaked in to drop off his shoulders. She opened her eyes as he kissed her more deeply. The careworn lines on his face were softening, being smoothed away as he gave in. She felt a delicious sensation flutter down her back, something she had craved—the feeling that came from the knowledge that he desired her. She closed her eyes again, shifting to hold her body more firmly against his. Then a low moan escaped her throat and she cringed back slightly, her eyes snapping open in embarrassment.

He grinned and stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. He often teased her about her demureness. "It's okay, Cate, I like to know you like it."

Still, she couldn't stop the ruddiness that was spreading over her face. Though she knew he had noticed, she turned slightly to try and hide it, motioning toward the kitchen. "Are you hungry?"

"Very." He pulled her back to him, dipping his head to nibble eagerly at her neck.

She started to feel dizzy, and realized she was nearly panting as she leaned back into his encircling arms to accept his affections. She swallowed and tried to find her voice again. "I meant for dinner…" she finally protested feebly.

"Me, too." He pushed the shoulder of her dress aside to dip his mouth below the neckline.

"Mmm…" She tried to stand more in an upright position to still the heady sensation. "No, I mean…the food… It's drying out in the oven…"

He didn't divert his attentions from what he was doing, his voice muffled. "What is it?"

"Filet mignon, baked potato, cabernet…" She trailed off as Leonard stood upright.

"That sounds good." He kissed her one more time, on the forehead this time, and smiled. "I guess you're right. We don't want that to go to waste."

"No," she sighed. As she readjusted her dress a vision flashed into her mind of her grabbing him and leading him seductively to bed. But as he turned around to walk toward the kitchen she just meekly followed him. She wished she hadn't persisted like that. Why couldn't she just be impulsive for once?

The good news was waiting for him, printed out on a piece of paper she had folded to stand up in front of his spot at the table. It had arrived on the terminal that afternoon. It was the letter that they had been waiting for, having been sent to inform them that they had an interview scheduled with an ONI representative in New York six weeks later.

As Leonard sat down, Caitlin took the plates from where they had been warming in the oven. She set his plate down and uncovered it, smiling. He didn't react, so she looked over at him. He was frozen, staring at the paper clenched between his fingers.

She paused in puzzlement. "Did you read it?"

"Yeah, yeah," he replied, shaking his head. "Sorry."

She felt dread grip her heart for a moment. Had the melancholy returned again so quickly? "Well, don't you think that's good news?"

Leonard smiled; a thin, bleak smile. "Of course it is."

Her heart started pounding. This had been his dream ever since she had met him—his enthusiasm for it had even convinced her that there was no greater attainment in their field than working under Dr. Catherine Halsey at ONI. And here he was, barely reacting to the news that he had finally gotten his chance. She sat down across from him.

"Len…," she began. But she bit back the words that had been on the verge of escaping her lips. If she brought up counseling, they would just get into another fight about it. She wanted him to be amorous, like he had been when she greeted him at the door. She put her hand on his instead. "Len, come on. Isn't this exciting?"

He nodded, finally raising his eyes from the paper and looking at her. "I'm sorry, Cate. It's…" He seemed to be struggling to express something, but then he suddenly set the paper down and sat up straighter. "Forget it. I'm going to enjoy this. Okay?"

"What is _wrong_?" The question had come out in spite of herself. She wanted to discuss it—sometime—but not now, not when he had been enjoying her advances.

He shook his head, staring down at his plate. There was a pause, and then he picked up his utensils and took a bite of the steak. He gestured to the plate with his fork after he swallowed the first bite. "This isn't bad."

Caitlin blinked back the tears that had misted up in her eyes. "I got it from that restaurant where we had your birthday dinner." She sat up straighter and put her napkin in her lap, trying to pretend that everything was normal.

"Mmm, yeah, that was pretty good." He looked up from his plate in her direction, but he gazed over the surface of the table, his eyes distant.

Where was his mind? She hated small talk, but she felt herself becoming nervous, and soon she knew she would begin babbling just to fill the empty silence if he kept this up. "Well, I remembered how you liked it. That was before, uh… Well, you were a lot happier back then, I mean, not that you aren't happy now, I just…"

He glanced at her face, then down at his plate, cutting off a bite of steak. "You can say it."

She had been fidgeting with her own utensils, pulling the texture of the meat into strips, and now she jabbed a sliver of it agitatedly. "I just thought you'd like having it, to celebrate."

"I do." He smiled just slightly, his eyes seeing far-off visions over her shoulder. "See, it all started when I got together with Allison. It was almost graduation, and she wanted to surprise me. But this is a lot more expensive than what we had." There was a silence as his gaze drifted again, clearly holding back from expressing whatever he was recalling at that moment. His smile faded and he focused on Caitlin's face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

He must have misinterpreted her expression. This night was supposed to be about the two of them, it was true, but she didn't want him to stop talking. He was finally, finally opening up to her. "No, you know, I think you need to talk about it. That's why…" She looked down at her hands. No; she'd already held back one comment about counseling to avoid an argument. It seemed like this tactic was working. She looked up at him again. "…Did she surprise you?"

"Did she surprise me?" Leonard chuckled, his eyes soft and far away again. "Yeah, you could say that." There was a moment's pause before he focused on Caitlin again. "But really, Cate, I know you don't want to hear about that."

"What makes you think that?" Caitlin popped up to grab a tissue at the counter to wipe her nose with. "I've been begging you to talk to me about this stuff, and if not me a counselor—"

She cringed when he reacted. She hadn't meant to let that thought slip out. "Caitlin!" His anger was instant. "Don't fucking start with me again!"

She gaped at him for a moment. "Leonard, _why_ do you get so mad when I mention counseling? Don't you see the way holding it in is twisting you up inside?"

For a moment Leonard's eyes resembled those of a caged animal, narrowing and darting to the doorway, restlessly, as though he wished to flee the room. "This isn't what you told me we were doing here. We're supposed to be celebrating. You want to celebrate tonight? You drop this subject and let me eat."

Caitlin sat down in her chair with a thud, wiping her nose and eyes and struggling to keep from bursting into all-out weeping. Just when it looked like they were going to have a real breakthrough, she had to go and open her big mouth.

Leonard remained motionless for a few moments before turning his attention back to his plate. He started eating again, but Caitlin could only sit there, trying to take deep breaths to calm the turmoil of emotions charging through her chest. He wasn't savoring his food as he had earlier, instead chewing and swallowing rapidly as though he were in a hurry. She had a feeling that if she didn't manage to defuse the tension between them, he would disappear into the office as soon as he had consumed the last of the meal.

She shifted restlessly. "Len…?" She didn't even know what she was going to say, but he looked at her again.

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Leonard seemed irritated; he thumped the end his fork into the surface of the table before letting it go to clatter against his plate. "_What_, Cate? What is it?"

Again an image flashed in her mind, this time of her straddling him in his chair. _Be impulsive. Go on._ She half stood and hesitated, nervously alternating between choosing to go for broke and backing off again. Why was she so competent giving a presentation to a roomful of scientists, but so embarrassed to be flirtatious with Leonard?

Leonard seemed to catch on to her dilemma. His posture changed, relaxing back into his seat, as his scowl disappeared and his mouth spread into a slight smirk. She became aware that she was blushing again, which made her embarrassment compound on itself, and she plunked back down to her seat.

He was grinning openly now. "Do it, Cate."

"Do what?" she asked, blinking to avoid his gaze.

He tilted his head back affirmatively, still smiling that cocky smile. "You know. Whatever it was you were about to do when you talked yourself out of it."

She swallowed hard, looking at those blue eyes. If she backed down now, it would give him another reason to tease her. And she definitely didn't want things to go back the way they had been a few moments ago. She bit her tongue to steel herself. Time to clear her mind and go with her impulses. Let them lead, stop trying to think about things so hard.

She stood, bucked the table back with her hip to give her enough clearance, and threw her leg over his lap. She settled in front of him, chest to chest, and shoved her hands into his hair as she kissed him roughly. He didn't respond at first, other than to shift her weight slightly off of his bad leg. She knew he was making a pretense of holding back—probably to see how long she would persist—but finally she felt him sink into the kiss and his hands came up to caress her back. This time she didn't hold back when her voice arose from her throat, and she allowed the sound to elongate into a needy groan.

That did it. Leonard staggered to his feet, while Caitlin wrapped her legs around his waist and gripped his shoulders. It felt so good to lose control for once. She concentrated on his lips as she was transported across the apartment. Salty with a touch of wine, and the contrast between their soft texture and the stubble around them. His hands on her body after he laid her down on the bed, the feel of skin against skin, so many sensations too long relinquished. She had missed it all, so much.

Then it was over, and he lay next to her, so close but not touching her now, his breathing slowing and eyes closed. She looked over at him. He looked so peaceful, so contented, now. But she was unable to let the thought go—would he just go right back to being depressed after this? Had she had any impact on his mental state at all?

She turned on her side to regard him more fully. He seemed to be close to being asleep. She took her fingertip and traced it down his nose and mouth before cupping his chin with her hand. He smiled softly. She pulled herself closer to him and laid her head on his chest. She closed her eyes to breathe in his scent, and the smell of the candles. Everything was silent and still and comfortable. It seemed a shame to speak at this moment. But she felt the questions playing at the tip of her tongue. Finally, she gave in.

"You—you're happy, right, Len? You always wanted the chance to interview with ONI."

The smile was gone from his face. He swallowed. "Yes, you're right. That's all I ever wanted to do."

She ran her fingertips up and down his torso. "Then why are you reacting this way?"

He shrugged slightly. "I don't know. Something about it is bothering me."

She opened her eyes to look at him again. There was a small frown on his face, creasing his forehead. She used her thumb to smooth the lines out again and kissed him there. "Are you afraid? Afraid of failing?"

His frown deepened. "No." His eyes opened and he looked into hers. "It's just…" He shook his head, fishing for words. "I used to have this professor at Austin who was always calling Dr. Halsey 'the Edison of our time'. Something about that keeps bugging me."

Caitlin shrugged. "It's kind of an archaic example, but I can see what he means. Edison was one of those inventors who just lived in the right era. He made lot of discoveries about electricity."

Leonard reached up to trace the curve of her cheekbone and jaw line with his thumb. "I just never thought it was very complimentary. Pretty much everything Edison ever did is either obsolete or discredited."

Caitlin couldn't help smiling. "That's what's bothering you? That six hundred years later he's not considered the greatest inventor of all time or something?" She settled her head on Leonard's chest again. "Dr. Halsey may not be remembered in six hundred years, but people will probably still be building off of something she discovered."

Leonard didn't answer her. He closed his eyes and drew his arm around her instead.

She put her arm around his waist. "Did I help you feel better?"

The only answer she got was a squeeze and a kiss on the top of her head. She could take that as a yes, but somehow she knew that it was really meant to be dismissive. Despite the efforts she had gone to that evening, it had not made any difference. Of course not, not after she had broken her own rule about bringing up counseling, not after she had sparked yet another argument on the topic. Though it was her own fault, and as much as she had suspected it would turn out that way, it still hurt. It hurt a lot.

Caitlin blinked back her tears until she was sure that Leonard had fallen asleep. Then she slipped out of bed, walked into the office, closed the door behind her; and only then, when she was sure she was utterly alone, only then did she let her sobs break forth.


End file.
